


Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [61]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Spacekru celebrates their third Unity Day on the Ring.





	Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessed with Ed Sheeran's "Perfect" for a few weeks now, and so this thing was born.

Seeing Echo dance is a thing of rare beauty.

The spy prides herself in being always in control of herself, keeping her feelings and thoughts close to her chest. Her body carefully honed a fine-tuned instrument. Of course over the course of the three years they’ve been stuck up here he has gotten to glimpse behind her tightly knit façade, they all have: the small curl of a lip at Murphy’s antics, the tired growl when she has a headache, the smugness that falls around her when she wins at cards. Yet nothing is as revealing as seeing her dance. She loses the stiffness of her ramrod straight back, her shoulders fall slightly, and her eyes shine like stars. She’s always light on her feet, but as she combines one step into the next, she seems to float, her head tipped back, a lazy smile curling her full lips just so.

Bellamy has caught twice down in the storage area, bathed in the emergency exit light: humming and twirling a mop in the near darkness, seen only by crates of repurposed clothes and scrap metal. The first time was somewhere at the end of the first year on the Ring, and the sight of her dancing had him angry for a week. How dare she? How dare she be happy and sing when everything was gray and stale and dark when his sister was locked away so far away when so many good people were dead.

On the dance floor, Emori laughs, bringing her him back to the present. Monty twirls her, Harper and Raven swing to the music, barely moving, unlike Murphy who’s prancing around, trying to learn the steps to a grounder dance Echo’s teaching him.

It is their third Unity Day on the Ring and, on the bridge, the celebration is in full swing: Monty’s best batch of algae beer has been brought out, garlands with the twelve flags decorate the walls and music blasts through the speakers.

As Bellamy watches, nothing of that old anger remains. It hasn’t been there for a while now.

He can’t say when his feelings for the grounder spy changed when he stopped looking at her and seeing everything he had lost. But the fact is that he doesn’t resent her anymore and feels so much lighter for it. They all did shitty stuff, they all hurt each other in ways that should be unforgivable and yet are, because they need each other. They care about each other.

Murphy laughs when Echo twirls out of his grasp and bows low, the metallic beads she has woven into her plaited hair clinking entrancingly.

Her smile could put suns to shame.

Bellamy licks his lips. “Way to go, Echo!” chuckles Emori from Monty’s arms as he tips her back. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

The spy makes a complicated filigree with her feet, moving out of Murphy’s reach with ease. “I was a spy for the Azgedan Royal family, Ems.” Bow. “Dancing was required.” Twirl out of grasp.

That might be true, but she loves it. She loves swaying to the music and floating through the steps. There is no way she could fake the easiness around her eyes or the relaxed tilt of her head, the teasing in her steps as she keeps herself just out of reach.

Bellamy’s hand twitches. He longs to be a part of the party, he wants to dance and laugh like the rest of them do. And he longs to put his hands on Echo’s waist and pull her closer, to bury his face in the side of her neck and…

He cuts that thought at the root.

Years ago he might have had a chance, but that ship has sailed by now.

Emori moves to stand in front of the spy, looking down at her feet to mimic the steps. “So, this is how the royals danced?”

“This is the traditional dance for single, available ladies.”

“Oh! It’s a _courtship_ dance!” Emori laughs, loud and happy. “I don’t think I like you trying to woo my man.”

“Murphy wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

Emori nods. “True.”

“I heard that!”

Bellamy tears his eyes away from Echo’s slender hips and strong shoulders counts to ten and wanders over to the controls.

Raven has put a random playlist of old-timey songs to play automatically, and he scrolls absently through the names while, around him, his people laugh and drink more than they should.

They are safe and happy and there are no solar flares to disturb the festivities like they did last year. They are not broken by tragedy, feeling caged and suffocating like the one before that.

For the first time in his life, everything is as it should be. If only he could stop staring at Echo.

His eyes fall on one of the cued songs.

A small smile plays around the corner of his mouth as he taps on the name. Echo’s smile when the first chords start to play, changes her whole face: eyes widening and teeth showing and she grasps Emori’s hands in excitement, dragging her across the dance floor to Raven’s whoops and Emori’s delighted chuckles.

“Dude, you got it bad.”

Murphy’s words burst his bubble.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should get your head out of your ass before Raven decides you’ve had long enough and makes her move.”

“What are you talking about?”

Murphy raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his obtuseness. “We can all see the way you look at her, you know.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough.” And with that he leaves him alone, to go get some more algae beer, and steal his girlfriend back.

Bellamy stays by the controls a few moments longer, watching the revelry. He feels content, happy even, happier than he’s ever been and he owes it all to these six amazing people.

The song ends, another one starts. Someone taps his shoulder.

“May I have this dance?”

There is a blush high on Echo’s cheeks and her brow’s beaded with sweat.

Bellamy tries to decline: he has never danced before; he’ll step on her feet and make a fool of himself.

“Yeah,” is what comes out of his mouth. Echo’s eyes twinkle. She’s the one to grab his hand and tow him onto the dance floor to his friend’s cheers.

“I am not much of a dancer.” he tries to warn her. Echo shrugs, her voice barely a whisper, eyes everywhere but on him.

“We’ll keep it simple then.”

Her hands land feather-light on his shoulders. His fingers curl around Echo’s hips, and he feels her sigh, taking a step closer into his space, head bowed so that he can't see her face. 

On the speaker,s a singer whose name he doesn’t know waxes poetic about a newfound love, and he feels sort of called out.

The world seems to fall away. For a few exhilarating seconds, it’s just him, Echo and the corny song.

She’s singing along, her breath fanning over his collarbones.

_Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms_

_Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song_

 “I think this is my new favorite song,” He mumbles under his breath and feels automatically silly for saying those words out loud. If she asks him why he won't be able to answer. 

Echo raises her eyes, and he’s suddenly trapped in the warmth of her caramel gaze. Like a fly in honey. Her lips are so close he can nearly taste them.

“It might be mine, too.”

Bellamy blushes to the roots of his hair. He wants to move away. Wants to move closer. Wants to add something else, wants to pull her head up and kiss her. 

Echo presses herself closer to him and when his hands land on her back he can feel her heartbeat through her thin shirt and, yes, he can’t remember a time where he’s been more at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know that Ed Sheeran surviving 100 years might be a bit of a stretch, but indulge me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting


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